House Of Tunt
by Red Witch
Summary: Cheryl decides to put on a fashion show.


** The disclaimer telling all of you that I don't own any Archer characters has fallen off the runway. Just more madness from my tiny little mind. **

**House Of Tunt **

"Great news everyone!" Cheryl walked into the bullpen where the others were. "My aunt Tabitha has died!"

"That's **terrible news**," Cyril said.

"Not to me," Cheryl said. "I've always hated that crazy bitch. Plus, she left me half of her fortune in the will. The other half goes to my stupid brother."

"If you hated her why are you getting money from her estate?" Ray asked.

"Because she liked **me**," Cheryl said. "I know. It's not like I encouraged it. Then again, I haven't seen her since I was like twelve. She probably put me and my brother in the will so all my other relatives would be jealous."

"What's left of them," Pam realized. "You seem to go through like an aunt a month."

"Yeah they're really dropping off like flies," Cheryl smirked.

"Will we have to go to this funeral too?" Lana sighed.

"Oh no," Cheryl waved. "The funeral was last week."

"And you **didn't go?"** Cyril asked. "You know you could have just told me and I would have let you go right?"

"I know," Cheryl nodded. "I just didn't want to."

FLASHBACK!

"I can't believe my selfish sister didn't show up to our aunt's funeral!" Cecil groaned as he sat in the pews of the church with his girlfriend Tiffy.

"She didn't even show up to her own **parents' funeral**," Tiffy looked at her. "This really _surprises _you?"

"Well yes," Cecil said. "Because she didn't like Tabitha. I would have thought she'd jump at a chance to wreck another funeral of someone she hated."

"And yet Tabitha put you both in her will."

"Because we were the only family members she liked," Cecil explained. "She thought we were the nicest. Which says a lot about my family."

"I've met your family," Tiffany sighed. "I can see that. But she thought Cheryl was _**nice?**_"

"Well we were only twelve the last time she saw us," Cecil shrugged. "And we didn't exactly talk that much. I think in our entire lives we've only had nine actual conversations with that woman. And half of them she was also talking to someone else while watching TV."

"That explains it," Tiffy sighed. "And it also explains the turnout."

They were alone in the church. "Damn it," Cecil groaned. "Looks like I have to give the eulogy again! I hate public speaking."

"Don't worry Cecil," Tiffy sighed. "This doesn't count."

FLASHFORWARD!

"He, he, he," Cheryl giggled. "Cecil probably had to give the eulogy again. Of course, since the only person that probably showed up with him was Tiffy it doesn't count as public speaking. But still…"

"So, what did you get from **this one**?" Pam sighed.

"A couple million and her business," Cheryl said. "You are now looking at the new owner of Esper Fashions."

"Hang on," Lana did a double take. "Not **The** Esper Fashions? One of the most exclusive and expensive fashion designers in the world?"

"The fashion house that's so exclusive they haven't designed a dress for the Oscars in twelve years because they think it's slumming?" Ray's jaw dropped.

"The fashion house that European royalty has on speed dial?" Krieger was stunned. "And then **they **get put on hold?"

"That's the one," Cheryl nodded. "But it's not as big as it used to be. Apparently, my crazy aunt was in debt up to her eyeballs and her company had to sell half its assets before I got anything. All I have left is her apartment in LA, which is convenient because that's where I live. The shop on Rodeo Drive. Again convenient. A couple million dollars. A ton of jewelry. A bunch of clothes I wouldn't be caught dead in. A private jet. And an apartment in Paris somewhere."

"How horrible for you," Cyril glared at her.

"Hang on," Lana realized something. "Your aunt was Tabitha Esper? **The **Tabitha Esper?"

_"Yes,"_ Cheryl groaned. "She's a Tunt on my father's side. She's the eldest daughter of my father's oldest brother. Which makes her technically my cousin I know, but she was so old and bats we called her aunt. And she was a real nutcase of a bitch who always insisted talking to herself in the first person, wearing red and those god-awful huge sunglasses so nobody would realize how big a hangover she had."

"I thought she had a daughter of her own," Pam asked.

"Died in a car crash years ago," Cheryl waved. "Drunk driving."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Lana said. "That's terrible."

"Yeah that's what **everyone said**," Cheryl told her. "She got drunk and drove into somebody's house. Ran over an old lady in her own living room. The irony is the old lady survived with just a broken leg. But her big ass ceiling fan landed right on top of my cousin. While it was still moving."

"Ohhh…" Everyone said.

"They had to put her in a high collar dress at the funeral," Cheryl said. "You could still see the stiches of where they sewed the head back on. Now that I think about it, that was the last time I did talk to my Aunt Tabitha. I remember asking her to get off my pocketbook but she was crying so loud she didn't pay attention to what I was saying. She was so self-centered."

"Uh huh," Lana remarked.

"Wrecked a perfectly good bottle of glue and a candy bar," Cheryl grumbled. "Not to mention the pocketbook. So selfish."

"It does seem to be a Tunt family trait," Ray said dryly.

Cyril sighed. "Let's just skip ahead to whatever it is you are going to hire us for Cheryl."

"Oh right," Cheryl said. "I **did **want to hire you guys. I've made a decision. I'm going to become a famous fashion designer in my own right! As of now, Esper Fashions is no more. From now on, The House of Tunt reigns!"

"**Of course,** you are," Lana sighed. "How long have you wanted to be a fashion designer Cheryl?"

"Ever since I was a kid," Cheryl said. "And I got those fashion plates for my birthday! You remember fashion plates? You pick out the tops and bottom. Put down a blank piece of paper. Use the rubbing crayon over it. Color the drawing in. Voila! Easy peasy!"

"And that is how you are going to design your clothes?" Ray sighed.

"Duh!" Cheryl said. "That's where the easy peasy part comes in! I already bought like a ton of different plates for different sets. Just mix and match and sew! Easy!"

Cyril just pressed on. "And what do you need us to do **exactly?"**

"Uh help me with my line! Duh!" Cheryl said. "I'll design. Ray and Krieger can sew. Lana and Pam can be models with me. And Cyril you just do all the other stuff needed to put on a fashion show at my new store on Rodeo Drive. The Esper Fashion House. Which I'm renaming House of Tunt."

"Uh huh," Pam said.

"I've decided that I'm gonna have the fashion show by the end of the week on Friday," Cheryl said.

"Today is Tuesday," Cyril blinked.

"Right. You might want to get the ball rolling on that one," Cheryl said. "Just book the venue. Call all the major newspapers and fashion magazines. Set up the stage. Hire some caterers and bartenders for the after party. Pick a good restaurant to set it up in close by. I hear that new Foxband Oberon place is nice. And gift bags for the fashion critics we're inviting. Good gift bags!"

"Let me see if I get this straight," Cyril sighed. "You want me to organize a fashion show and after party to display outfits you haven't even **designed** yet, let alone made."

"Good point," Cheryl blinked. "Let's make it Saturday instead."

"How generous of you," Lana said dryly.

"I guess I'd better start working on the designs huh?" Cheryl asked.

"That might be a good place to start," Krieger said. "We can't buy the fabric until we know how much and what colors to buy."

"We **can't?**" Cheryl blinked. "Wow. Good thing I hired you guys. There's a lot to this fashion stuff I don't know about."

"We figured that," Ray sighed.

"Okay I really don't want to do all of it by myself," Cheryl said. "Lana you can help me color."

"Why me?" Lana asked. "This isn't another one of your big hands jokes is it?"

"No! I think you have a sense of style," Cheryl said.

"Well thank you," Lana said.

"Which has to be some accomplishment in itself," Cheryl added. "You know? With those huge monster hands. Just don't break the plates huh?"

"I'm gonna break **your neck** in about…" Lana snapped.

"Lana," Cyril sighed. "Paying client. Paying client."

Lana took a deep breath. "Fine…"

"This is going to be so much fun!" Cheryl squealed. "I know we can make new and exciting innovations in fashion! I even got some new Barbie plates!"

"Swell…" Lana held her tongue.

"This fashion show is going to be an event people will be talking about for a **long time**!" Cheryl left the room.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Lana sighed as she followed her.

"So…" Krieger paused. "Just so I'm clear. We're just going to go through with whatever insane plan Cheryl has come up with, right?"

"Right," Cyril said.

"We've become Cheryl's entourage, haven't we?" Ray groaned.

"Looks like it," Pam sighed. "We're getting paid right?"

"Oh yeah," Cyril nodded.

"You still have Cheryl's credit card, don't you?" Ray realized.

"How do you people think you've been getting paychecks these last few months?" Cyril snapped.

"I wasn't criticizing you," Ray defended. "I was just making conversation."

"How much you think she's going to give us?" Pam asked.

"I'm guessing somewhere between twenty-five or thirty grand sounds fair," Cyril mused. "Plus expenses."

"Can one of those expenses be dinner and drinks at Pita Margarita's?" Pam asked.

"Why not?" Cyril shrugged. They left to go to the bar.

The following day…

"Five hours!" Lana barked to Cyril, Ray, Krieger and Pam in Cyril's office. "**Five hours** I had to play Fashion Police with that glue sniffing lunatic!"

"I don't know what **you're** complaining about," Ray looked at her. "You're not the one expected to **sew everything**!"

"No, but I was the one who had to explain to her why you can't put a My Little Pony head onto a Barbie fashion plate!" Lana snapped. "Twice!"

"Lana, I admit I had major reservations about doing Cheryl's latest little manic obsession," Cyril said.

"We should give **that maniac** some major reservations in the nearest **lunatic asylum!"** Lana told him. "With a nice designer straight jacket!"

"But…" Cyril pressed on firmly. "We went to Cheryl's new store and we checked it over. This fashion show could actually be doable. They even have a runway already in place. Apparently, they have done fashion shows there before in the past and all the equipment is there. I'm sure some of the staff can help set everything up."

"And we found a few dresses and other clothes there that haven't been displayed yet," Pam added. "We can use them and tell Cheryl she designed them. She'll believe it."

"Plus, we have a very nice gift bag provider lined up," Ray added. "And we're going to have the after party at Happenings."

"You're all seriously going to go **through** with this?" Lana was stunned.

Cyril looked at her. "With the money Cheryl is paying us, I'd put on high heels and a dress and walk down the runway **myself!**"

"Me too," Ray and Krieger said at the same time.

"Look this is probably going to end up just like every other phase she's had," Pam said. "She lives out her fantasy. We tag along and make as much money off of her as possible before the whole thing crashes and burns. Within a few months she'll forget all about it and won't even remember what happened."

"Like her country music singing phase," Lana realized.

"Exactly," Pam nodded.

"This is all going to end in a huge fire," Lana sighed. "You know that, right?"

"Oh yes," Krieger nodded.

"We know," Pam said at the same time as Krieger.

"It's pretty much expected," Ray nodded.

"Already made sure the fire alarms and sprinklers work," Cyril added.

"We were thinking of another shortcut," Ray said. "Lana, Pam bring us a couple of dresses in your size you don't care about. Krieger and I will tie-dye them and write a couple of words on them. You know? Like peace, love…"

"Lug wrenches!" Krieger added. Everyone looked at him. "What? Is that **not **a saying?"

"Okay I got lots of designs," Cheryl walked in with several papers. She dropped them on a desk. "So just make these. And make sure there are some in the sizes for both Lana and Pam."

"I have to say Cheryl," Lana said. "I'm surprised that you want us in your fashion show."

"Of course I do Lana," Cheryl said. "I'm not an idiot. I'm aware that the fashion industry has problems with lack of diversity in color and body size. I'm just going to embrace that head on. That means more people will buy my clothes than a bunch of skinny bitches."

"That's really impressive of you Cheryl," Ray said. "For being so forward thinking."

"Plus, I want to be the best-looking model on the runway," Cheryl added. "I mean **hello?** Not much of a competition if I just have these two backing me up!"

"That is par for the course," Ray sighed.

"Oh yeah," Pam glared at Cheryl. "Thanks a lot, Vera Without A Wang!"

"You're welcome!" Cheryl began to walk out of the room. "Off for my glue and three-hour nap on the copy machine! Wow I haven't worked this hard in **years**!"

"I know," Cyril said dryly. "Oh, Cheryl while I have you here…"

"Uggghhh…" Cheryl stopped. **"What?" **

"I have to tell you," Cyril began. "I've been looking over the legal end of things and apparently there are some new taxes that have come up."

"_Taxes?"_ Cheryl looked at him. "For a **fashion show**?"

"Yes," Cyril said with a straight face. "There's runway insurance. Lighting insurance. Gift bag taxes. Makeup tax. Model coverage…"

"How much is **that **going to cost?" Cheryl asked.

"Well if we skimp on the runway insurance…" Cyril paused. "Fifteen…Maybe twenty thousand dollars extra."

"Oh **fine,**" Cheryl waved. "Do what you have to do. I guess that's what I get for living in Tax-Achussets! Am I right?"

"That's not even the right…" Ray began.

"Let it go Ray," Pam interrupted with a sigh. "It doesn't matter."

"That's what I hired you for," Cheryl waved. "To do all the stupid boring legal stuff."

"That's right," Cyril said with a straight face. "That's what I do. Fill all those loopholes."

"Phrasing! HA!" Cheryl walked out of the room.

"You're going to run up her tab, aren't you?" Lana asked.

"You don't want a cut?" Cyril asked sarcastically.

"I wasn't judging," Lana said. "I was just making conversation. Oh, you might want to have the gift bag people put in some of those gourmet chocolate pretzels. The ones they gave away at the Oscars."

"Ooh, good call," Pam nodded in agreement. "And coupon books. Don't forget the coupon books."

"Okay so we'll order some extra bags," Cyril said. "How many do you want for yourself?"

"At least three," Lana said.

"Oh, by the way Cyril," Cheryl walked back in. "You might need to pay extra to reinforce the runway. You know? Between the Human AT-AT and Pooveysaurus. CLUNK! CLUNK! BRRRT! RRARRRR! So uh, don't skimp on the runway insurance. It's worth the extra few thousand." She left the room.

"Make it five," Lana groaned.

"Ditto," Pam nodded.

"Deal," Cyril agreed.

A few days later at the newly named House of Tunt store on Rodeo Drive…

"Yes, Cyril we put the sign up saying closed for a private event!" Ray snapped as Cyril followed him and Krieger backstage. "We covered it!"

"I just want to make sure everything has gone right," Cyril looked behind the curtain to see people in their seats on the sides of the runway. "And that you two are doing your jobs!"

"We're doing **our jobs**?" Krieger was offended. "_**You're**_ one to talk!"

Ray looked at Cyril. "Cyril, in addition to Krieger and I making up a non-existent fashion line in only a few days, we've been running ourselves ragged doing all the stupid little errands to put on the Fashion Show From Hell."

"Considering the odds that she may start a fire," Krieger added. "That's an accurate description."

"What about the staff here at the store?" Cyril asked.

"**What **staff?" Krieger snapped. "They ditched this place a week ago when they realized they weren't getting any more paychecks! We've been doing **everything!**"

Ray added. "Like helping Lana and Pam with their makeup!"

"Setting up the runway! Putting together the music and the lighting," Krieger added. "I'm DJ'ing this event. Doing the advertising for this fashion show!"

"We even set up the god damn chairs!" Ray snapped. "What have **you** done?"

"I've done **plenty!** I ordered the gift bags for starters," Cyril snapped. "Did you hand them out to the crowd?"

"Yes, and I admit they are nice," Ray said. "We already put our gift bags back in the van. We get five each plus extras. Except for Miss Priss of course."

"What's in them?" Krieger asked. "I didn't look."

"The chocolate covered gourmet pretzels obviously," Cyril said. "A coupon book for every fancy store in LA. Some caramel flavored lip gloss. Some moisturizer with sunscreen. A few random jams and small food items. A fancy pen with the words House of Tunt on it. And a small cinnamon apple candle saying House of Tunt on the label."

"That's not bad," Krieger said. "The cinnamon apple smell will really freshen up my lab."

"Krieger and I practically did everything and all you did was pick out the damn **gift** **bags?**" Ray shouted.

"Next time I want **your job**," Krieger said.

"I did more than that! Lana and I set up the after party at Happenings," Cyril protested. "There's a private room in the back. With a buffet and an open bar. So **that's done**. And obviously you sent out invitations to all the fashion reporters. There must be at least thirty people out there."

"Forty-three to be precise," Krieger said. "And thank you again for letting us borrow Cheryl's credit card."

"How much did you spend on invitations?" Cyril asked. "Minus whatever cut you took obviously."

"Obviously," Krieger nodded.

"About a hundred dollars a person," Ray said.

"It costs **that much** to print an invitation?" Cyril was stunned.

"Oh, we didn't print any invitations," Ray said. "We went a more direct route."

"And by a more direct route…?" Cyril asked. "You mean…?"

"We bribed people to come to the show," Ray said. "A hundred dollars and a gift bag on top of an invitation to the party at Happenings."

"Let's just say we put a few ringers in the crowd," Krieger told them.

Let's cut to the audience, shall we?

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Dr. Quinn groaned. He was wearing a black jacket with a grey top and dark blue jeans with black boots.

"Relax," Dr. Virjay waved. He was wearing dark sunglasses, a sharp black suit and a red tie. "This isn't exactly the weirdest thing Krieger has asked us to do."

"Not even the weirdest thing I was asked to do **this week**," Bernard DeLavanchey said as he looked at his gift bag. He was wearing a purple outfit. "And I've done far worse for far less. A hundred dollars, promise of a party and a halfway decent gift bag. Ooh! They have those gourmet chocolate pretzels I love! But my hips hate! Oh, who cares about those bitches?"

"I'm sorry," A Mexican man with a rather squarish head wearing a blue suit asked. "Who are **you** again?"

"Bernard DeLavanchey," The bald African American man introduced himself. "I'm a friend of Krieger and Ray Gillette."

"We know Krieger too," Dr. Virjay said. "I'm Dr. Iliad Virjay. That's Dr. Quinn."

"I'm Marco Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar Gabriel Garcia Marquez," The Mexican man said. "But everybody calls me just Marco. For obvious reasons."

"Do you know Krieger or Gillette?" Bernard asked.

"No, I'm a friend of these guys," Marco pointed to the other two. "But for a hundred bucks, a gift bag full of gourmet pretzels and a party with free booze…I'll pretend to be almost anybody. A newspaper man from a fashion magazine. Not that big a stretch."

"I actually have a blog," Bernard said. "I'm going to be real here. I'd have done this for free to get an exclusive inside the train wreck that is the fall of Esper Fashions AKA House of Tunt. But a hundred dollars and a good gift bag. That's just gravy."

"Hey!" Dr. Virjay looked at his bag. "They have gold plated gravy!"

"It's the coupon book that sold me," Another man in a nice suit said. "Well that and the hundred bucks Krieger gave me."

"Who are **you?**" Dr. Quinn asked.

"Here I'm Francis DePour from Fashion Magazine," The man said. "But in the real world I'm Frank the Bartender from Pita Margaritas."

"Really?" Another man spoke up. "I'm Charley the Bartender from Happenings. But uh if Ms. Tunt asks, I'm Charley's twin brother Marley. Who works for a fashion magazine. And is secretly having an affair with his wife's best friend. If my wife asks, **Marley** is doing that. Not me."

"We work at Pita Margarita's," A woman spoke up as she pointed to a group with her. "Waitresses and waiters."

"I was just drinking at **the bar** at Pita Margarita's," A man spoke up he was eating some of the pretzels out of the gift bag. "I'd just gotten fired. Then this guy comes up and asks if I want to make a hundred dollars easy by pretending to work at a fashion magazine. I said why not? I was just fired from being a corporate lawyer. One more lie isn't going to hurt."

The man took a bite out of another pretzel. "These pretzels are really good. I needed this. Ooh. Cinnamon apple candle. That will freshen up my apartment. And light it when they turn the power off."

A man raised his hand. "Bartender from the Hula Lounge."

A woman raised her hand. "Bartender from Giddy-Yap Gals."

One of seven elegantly dressed women spoke up. "We're strippers from Giddy-Yap Gals."

"Peppermint?" Marco did a double take. "I **thought** that was you!"

"Been a long time Girl," Dr. Quinn said. "Looking good!"

"You do," Pretzel Guy added. "Do you still have that four thirty show on Saturday or has that been moved?"

Lupe was also in the audience looking quite fashionable in a designer dress and a huge blue hat. _"I sure could use the two for one massage at Massage Palace. And I do love the chocolate covered pretzels."_

Dr. Quinn looked around the audience. "Is there anybody here that's an **actual news** person or from a **real magazine**? _Anybody?_"

Nobody was. "Well…" Dr. Virjay looked over to his right. "I guess that explains **that!**"

In the audience wearing a tight pink dress and high heels and a feather boa was Simone. "Fashion rules! Kick pants always in style wuzzaaahhh!"

"Simone?" Bernard blinked.

Dr. Quinn blinked. "This is going to end up another one of those things I'm going to have to explain to my therapist, isn't it?"

"Yuuuup," Marco blinked.

Let's head backstage, shall we?

"When you say a **couple of ringers**?" Cyril asked. "What does **that mean**?"

"It means **all of them** are ringers," Krieger said. "Don't worry about it." He and Ray moved off.

"That does **not **make me feel better!" Cyril snapped. He looked out at the audience. "That woman out there looks like just like Peppermint."

Backstage Ray and Krieger were helping Lana and Pam get ready. "I can't believe I'm so nervous about this," Lana sighed as she wore a tie-dyed sundress. "I mean I know it's just a dinky little show."

"I'm excited," Pam said as she wore a tie-dyed one-piece bathing suit. "I've always wanted to be a model. This could be my big break!"

"I doubt it," Lana groaned.

"Don't worry," Ray waved. "Everyone is going to love you!"

"Of course, they will!" Cyril snapped as he walked in. "You **paid** them to!"

"What?" Lana asked.

"Krieger and Ray filled the seats with fake news people," Cyril told them.

"Fake news!" Pam quipped. "Sorry. Somebody had to say it."

Ray was fixing Lana's skirt. "We gave them a hundred bucks and a gift bag each to pretend they worked in a fashion magazine. And we promised them free booze at the party from Happenings."

"Are you saying there's **nobody** out there that works in a real fashion magazine?" Pam asked.

"Well Bernard does have a blog," Ray admitted. "And I did give him some insider information but other than that…"

"How could you guys **do that?"** Lana asked. "What if Cheryl's designs are actually good? She might actually have what it takes to be a fashion designer."

Everybody then started to laugh. "Okay…" Lana gasped between laughed. "Okay I admit it. That's **not **going to happen. Good call guys."

"But what if Cheryl finds out?" Pam asked.

"Don't worry," Krieger waved. "Cheryl won't find out."

"Because everybody promised to keep their traps shut?" Pam asked.

"That and the fact that Cheryl isn't here today," Krieger sighed.

"What do you mean she's **not here**?" Lana snapped. "This is her fashion show! Where is she?"

"I don't know where **Cheryl **is," Krieger sighed. "But Cherlee insists she's ready."

"Who the hell is…?" Lana did a double take. "Oh no…"

"I'm here, I'm **here**!" Cheryl staggered out wearing a red dress, huge black sunglasses with red frames and a huge red hat. She was also wearing very high red platform shoes which she was having trouble walking in. "Cherlee, fashion model and fashion designer extraordinaire is in the house!"

"Oh, **that's **what you mean by Cheryl **isn't here,"** Lana looked at Krieger. "My mistake."

"Mine was giving her some extra strength groovy bears," Krieger sighed. "Followed by some LSD breath strips."

"That half bottle of absinthe she knocked back probably didn't help either," Ray admitted.

"Chanel! Givenchy!" Cherlee twirled around awkwardly. "St. Laurent! All of those bitches will be **nothing** after tonight! After my brilliance is displayed to the world those second-rate bitches might as well start selling their clothes at Wal-Mart! I am fashion! I am brilliance!"

"You are **plastered**," Ray remarked.

"Yes! Plastered with talent Darling!" Cherlee twirled around. "I must prepare! I must prepare for my lovely debut in the perfect outfit!"

"Yeah, a straightjacket," Lana whispered to Ray.

"Cherlee must prepare!" Cherlee gasped. "My adoring public awaits!" She twirled off to the side. "Where the hell am I going? I can't stop! I can't stop! Wow! What a metaphor!"

CRASH!

"I'm okay!" Cherlee giggled.

"On the bright side," Pam sighed. "Covering up this fiasco from her will be a lot easier."

"The sprinkler system works right?" Ray asked.

"And the fire extinguishers, yes," Cyril told them. "We're good on that front."

"Let's just get this over with," Lana sighed.

"Things Lana said to Cyril before they had sex," Pam quipped.

"Zing!" Ray quipped.

"You know…?" Cyril glared at them.

"Just get to work," Lana snapped. "Cyril you have a show to announce. Remember?"

"_Cyril's_ announcing?" Ray asked. "Well if this show wasn't a disaster **before**…"

"_Really?_ You know…?" Cyril snapped.

"Just get up there!" Lana barked.

"Phrasing!" Krieger remarked.

"I swear to God one day…" Cyril moaned as he went to get ready.

Soon the show began to start. Krieger was playing music at a DJ turntable and Cyril was on the microphone. "Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. And welcome to the first House of Tunt fashion extravaganza! Sponsored by the Figgis Agency. If you don't have a clue, call the Figgis Agency! You'd be in good company. I'm mean **we're** a good company!"

"Let's start off with our first model," Cyril said. "Here comes Lana with a spicy little sundress called Rainbow Rhapsody."

Lana walked out with an elegant strut. "Notice how the dress perfectly flatters Lana's body? Her beautiful body. See how the dress perfectly enhances Lana's supple breasts…"

"Hello!" Dr. Virjay sat straighter in his seat.

"How wonderful the dress flows…" Cyril sighed. "It frames her tight round…"

Lana couldn't take it anymore. "I'm **not** sleeping with you again, asshole!"

"Why **not?**" Cyril snapped.

"Because you **cheated** on me!" Lana snapped.

"Not the **second time** we were together!" Cyril snapped. "You're the one who inseminated yourself with Archer's sperm! Who spoiler alert: cheated on **you!"**

"Technically they were on break," Krieger called out.

"SHUT UP!" Cyril snapped.

"Cyril it's **over!"** Lana snapped. "Deal with it!"

"I'm not saying we should get back together permanently," Cyril said. "But don't you want to teach Archer a lesson if he wakes up? I mean he is the one who lied to the cops and got you arrested for a joke!"

"Our relationship was a joke, Cyril!" Lana snapped.

"He doesn't get that," Krieger explained. "We keep trying to tell him but…"

"Krieger will you **shut up**?" Cyril snapped. "Come on Lana! We both know you're going to use me anyway!"

"Like she's done before," Krieger added.

"SHUT UP KRIEGER!" Lana roared. "And I am not getting back together with a lying cheating asshole!"

"YOU DID!" Cyril shouted. "WITH ARCHER!"

"Hey-O!" Marco said.

"You know what really _pisses me off_ Lana?" Cyril snapped. "I jump through hoops to please you but all Archer had to do was flash his dick around and all of the sudden you're stuffing his sperm into your womb like it was made of gold!"

"Cyril…" Lana fumed.

"I don't get why you had to steal Archer's sperm," Cyril went on. "He certainly gives enough of it away for **free!**"

"Go to hell, Cyril!" Lana snapped as she stormed off the runway backstage.

"I'm **already there**, Sweetheart!" Cyril shouted.

Then he realized his mistake. "Oh, I am going to pay for that…"

"You **think?**" Krieger asked.

Bernard remarked. "I would have **paid **a hundred dollars to be here."

"Let's move on, shall we?" Cyril sighed. "Remember this show is sponsored by the Figgis Detective Agency. If you need help finding out if a loved one is cheating on you, we will find out by any means necessary. And I mean **any means**."

"Next up is Pam," Cyril announced as Pam strutted down the runway. "Wearing the latest fashion in bathing suits."

Pam did a double take. "Peppermint? Hey are you still doing that 4:30 show?"

"Go Pam!" Simone whooped.

"Simone?" Pam did a double take.

"Wizz bang!" Simone whooped.

"Thanks Simone!" Pam made a thumbs up and sauntered off the runway.

"Okay next up…" Cyril sighed. "Is Cherlee…Cherlee? Cherlee? Is she not ready yet?"

"Not exactly," Ray was heard off stage.

"Fine, Lana again," Cyril sighed.

"I'm not ready yet!" Lana snapped off stage. "Who only has three models for a fashion show?"

"**Us** apparently!" Cyril sighed. "Remember this…whatever **this** is, is sponsored by the Figgis Agency. Look, we're not that bad. I promise. You need us for any kind of work. Protection. Surveillance. Even if you lose a damn dog, we'll go find it. I'm willing to do **anything** here! I mean **look** at me! I know I'm not exactly Don Pardo but I'm doing the best I can with what I have!"

"That's the frightening part," Pam was heard off stage.

"Would you like to get up here?" Cyril snapped at Pam.

"Okay!" Simone clearly misunderstood and wobbled onto the stage. "Heeeeerreee's Simone! YEAAAHHHH!"

"I wasn't…" Cyril stopped. "Never mind."

"Ammmzzoowwww!" Simone began to dance and grind onstage. "Get some! Get some!"

"Well we were promised a show," Dr. Virjay remarked.

"Train wreck doesn't **begin** to cover this," Bernard giggled with glee.

"You're recoding this with your phone in secret, aren't you?" Dr. Quinn realized.

"James Bond has nothing on me, Baby," Bernard smirked as he showed Dr. Quinn. "This is going to make my blog explode."

"Cyril!" Lana stormed up to Cyril wearing a yellow dress. "What the hell is going on?"

"Yeah! Vogue!" Simone was making several bizarre poses to the delight of the crowd. "Vogue! Wazzzaaap!"

"You wanted me to stall," Cyril snapped. "I **stalled**! Next time get dressed faster!"

"I'm here! I'm here!" Cherlee sauntered on stage wearing a tie-dye dress. "Look at me! I am the fabulous…WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" Simone danced around to the hoots and hollers off stage.

"Okay I gotta put some of those moves in my act," Peppermint called out.

"Get off my damn runway, whore!" Cherlee shouted.

"I don't see your name on it," Simone slurred.

"THIS IS MY STORE!" Cherlee shouted. "MY NAME IS ALL OVER THE PLACE!"

"I don't read Skank," Simone shot back.

"Excuse me, _bitch?_" Cherlee shouted.

"What's the name of your blog?" Charley asked Bernard. "Because I am so putting it on my favorites."

"What a stupid dress," Simone slurred as she pointed at Cherlee's outfit.

"At least I don't look like I just crawled out of a dumpster!" Cherlee snapped back.

"You wish," Simone snorted. "Gizzbang! That dress looks like a paint can took a dump on it!"

"I am an **artiste!**" Cherlee snapped. "These magnificent creations are my canvas!"

"If by that you mean it looks like you just threw paint on them," Bernard snickered. "Then yes…"

"Watch it!" Cherlee snapped. She shoved Simone.

"You watch it!" Simone shoved back.

"Cyril, I think you should watch the door," Krieger said.

"Why?" Cyril asked.

"Because two police officers just walked in," Krieger pointed.

"Oh great…" Cyril went to meet them.

"Oh Goody," Bernard noticed. "The police are here just in time for the riot."

"Cops?!" Dr. Virjay gulped as he noticed the police. "Uh oh…"

"I think it might be time for us to sneak out by the back door," Dr. Quinn gulped.

"Is this about what happened in Canada with the fish?" Marco whispered.

"That and a few other…things," Dr. Virjay gulped as they cautiously made their way out the back door while Cherlee and Simone were fighting and the police were distracted.

"Uh, can I come with you?" Pretzel Guy joined them. "I kind of set my boss' desk on fire after he fired me."

"And my evil twin Marley might be wanted for some…" Charley gulped. "Tax evasion. And a few other things."

"Evil twin? Seriously dude?" Marco scoffed.

"Hey it worked in Vegas," Charley said. "Where I'm wanted for some card sharking. I mean Marley is wanted for card sharking."

"We've done a few things too," A woman said as a few more people followed them. "Really not interesting."

"Okay," Dr. Virjay gulped. "Let's boogie!" They started to leave.

"Is there a problem officers?" Cyril asked. "This is a private event."

"Noise complaint from next door," The first police officer said.

"YOU DON'T HAVE KICK PANTS!" Simone shouted.

"I SHOULD KICK **YOU** IN THE PANTS!" Cherlee shouted back.

"We'd like to see your permit for this fashion show," The second police officer said to Cyril. They completely ignored the large group of people sneaking out the back of the store. Mostly because they were focused on Cyril and the screaming match onstage.

"I had to get a **permit?**" Cyril was stunned. "I didn't **know that!"**

"Way to go legal eagle," Lana groaned as she and Ray walked up to Cyril.

"It figures," Ray looked at him. "The one expense you **actually had** and you didn't pay it!"

"Hey!" Cyril snapped. "I had to order the gift bags okay!"

"What kind of gift bags are we talking about?" The second police officer asked. "Does it have any gourmet pretzels in it?"

"Actually…" Cyril began.

RRRRIIP!

"HA HA!" Cherlee cackled as she ripped Simone's dress.

Simone responded by not only ripping Cherlee's dress, but by ripping it and spitting on Cherlee. "AAAHHHH!" Cherlee screamed as she tackled Simone.

"Here we go," Bernard whooped.

"YOU SKANK!" Cherlee screamed as she fought with Simone on the runway.

"I am not getting involved in **that!**" Ray pointed.

"Nooope," Lana sighed.

"Would you believe this is part of the show?" Cyril gulped. "All fake?"

"If it is," The first police officer blinked. "That explains the outfits."

"Oh God damn it," The second police officer groaned. "Is that **Simone!** Nooo! No way am I breaking **that up**! Last time that crazy lunatic bit me and I had to get a tetanus shot!"

"What are you complaining about?" The first police officer snapped. "You only got **one!"**

Somehow Cherlee broke away from Simone. She managed to grab a chair and throw it at Simone who ducked. "DIE!" Cherlee screamed.

The chair missed and crashed into what was left of the audience, who managed to scatter to get out of the way. Then Simone grabbed a chair and threw it at Cherlee, who got out of the way. That chair scared off more people on the other side.

"KRIEGER!" Cyril shouted.

"On it!" Krieger pulled out his tranquilizer gun. He started chasing both Simone and Cherlee around the room.

"Is that a tranquilizer gun?" The first cop shouted.

"Do you have a permit for that?" The second cop shouted.

"Probably not," Ray sighed.

"RAY!" Cyril shouted.

"Next time set up your own damn chairs!" Ray shouted.

CRASH!

"Not that it matters **now!"** Ray groaned as Cherlee threw another chair that smashed into a wall.

"Best fashion show, **ever!**" Bernard squealed as he recorded everything with his phone.

"AAAAAAAHHHH!" Simone saw her opportunity and tackled Cherlee.

WHUP! WHUP!

"Whuzzaattt?" Simone blinked as she realized that there were two darts in her butt.

"HA!" Cherlee punched Simone out.

WHUP! WHUP!

"What the…?" Cherlee blinked as she saw two darts in her arm. Then she passed out.

"Got 'em!" Krieger whooped.

Cyril looked at the police. "Does whoever I pay the fine to take credit cards?"

Later that afternoon: Cyril, Lana, Ray and Pam were drinking at the bar at Happenings. "God what a day," Cyril moaned. "We really blew that one. And worst of all we don't even have a bartender. Where is Charley?"

"Cheer up Cyril," Pam said as she drank a cocktail. She was dressed in her usual orange dress. "At least the cops let us off with a warning."

"That's because I bribed them with some gift bags," Cyril groaned as he drank some scotch. "Apparently in this town that's a thing."

"So is getting a **permit!**" Lana glared at Cyril.

"You're just not gonna let that go, are you?" Cyril groaned.

"That and humiliating me in public!" Lana snapped.

"Like that's the first time he's done **that,**" Pam waved.

Ray spoke up. "Cyril all you have to do to pay the fine is use some of the money you took already from Edina Monsoon's insane American cousin. And then replace **that money** with more fake expenses. Cheryl will never know."

"But what if someone from her company figures it out?" Cyril asked.

"Just put saving Cheryl's ass from her latest scheme in a note somewhere," Ray said. "I'm pretty sure the people that work for the Tunt Corporation are used to it by now."

"Huh, you're right," Cyril blinked. "Even with the fine we still made some good money."

"While completely humiliating ourselves," Lana sighed. "Not as much as Cherlee humiliated herself granted but still…"

"I'm back," Krieger walked in. "I could use a drink. Scotch please!"

"Here's the bottle. How did it go?" Pam asked as she handed him the bottle.

"Simone calmed down after I gave her some tranquilizers and a sandwich," Krieger admitted as he sat down. "I was going to just leave her at the dumpster I found her in when I realized that would be wrong. So, I did the only humane thing I could do."

"You didn't kill her, did you?" Pam asked.

"No!" Krieger denied. "I put her on a bus to San Francisco. She's their problem now."

"And Cherlee?" Lana asked.

"Passed out in the van," Krieger shrugged as he poured himself a drink. "I didn't want to wake her."

"I guess we can officially put working in the fashion industry on the failed business list," Cyril groaned. "Which as we all know, is getting longer every year."

"Hey," Pam said. "We all got money and gift bags out of this. And we didn't get arrested. That's a victory."

"Well…" Lana paused. "At least this disaster **didn't** end in a fire. That's something at least."

"No, but Cherlee's career went down in flames," Ray remarked.

"Who the hell is Cherlee?" Cheryl walked over to them. Her clothes, hair and makeup ruined. "And what happened? Why am I a mess?"

"You don't **remember?**" Pam asked. "Even though the fashion show was not even two hours ago?"

"Honestly it's kind of a blank," Cheryl looked around. "I don't remember a thing after drinking some absinthe and popping in a breath strip. What happened?"

"One of your models you picked out went nuts," Pam said honestly. "And it wasn't me or Lana."

"Was it that strange looking redhead?" Cheryl asked. "Damn it! I knew I should have done a background check!"

"Cheryl I'm going to just cut to the chase," Cyril sighed. "The House of Tunt just figuratively burned to the ground."

"But not literally, right?" Cheryl asked.

"Not yet," Krieger shook his head.

"By the way Cheryl," Cyril sighed as he took a drink. "You may have to pay some fines. I'll take care of that. Let's just say it's the crazy redhead's fault."

"I knew it," Cheryl crowed. "That bitch will never work in this town again!"

Ray remarked. "Considering she never worked **before** that's not much of a threat."

"Well that's over now," Cheryl waved. "Let's go join the party."

"There **isn't a** party," Lana said. "Not anymore."

"Why?" Cheryl asked.

"Half of our guests fled when the fight broke out and the cops arrived," Lana sighed. "The other half went to Giddy-Yap Girls."

"Is it 4:30 already?" Pam blinked. "Well at least we have plenty of leftovers to take home."

"That will save on groceries for the week," Krieger said cheerfully.

"So basically, you're all saying my whole fashion line is ruined?" Cheryl asked.

"Just like your singing career," Pam said. "Only without the coup, the bomb and the marines invading. And it ended a lot faster."

"My **what now**?" Cheryl blinked.

"Never mind," Pam sighed. "Not important."

"I guess I'll probably have to sell my store," Cheryl sighed. "Thanks a lot Aunt Tabitha for **that** white elephant!"

"It's not a complete bust," Ray told her. "Why don't we all go to your apartment in Paris for the weekend? Before you sell it."

"Why would I sell my apartment in **Paris?**" Cheryl snorted.

One week later…

Cheryl, Lana, AJ, Ray, Pam, Krieger, and Cyril were standing on an apartment balcony looking at the scenery. "Ohhh…" Cheryl remarked. "It's Paris, **Texas**. Ohhhh! I didn't know they had a Paris, _Texas._"

"I didn't know that Paris Texas had their own version of the Eiffel Tower," Pam said. "The red cowboy hat is a nice touch."

They were looking at the attraction from the apartment. There was a huge Eiffel Tower in the distance with a red cowboy hat on top of it. "It really is," Ray admitted.

"It's different," Lana said as she held AJ. "And it's a lovely city."

"That fountain we saw was really nice," Cyril said.

"And I hear the market for this town is booming," Krieger added.

"I like it," Cheryl nodded. "I'm gonna keep this place."

"Might as well," Ray sighed. "The way our careers our going in LA we may end up having to move here."


End file.
